"Yes'm!" the young Irishman replied to the older marine as she approached him. He made his way forward steadily, albeit at a slower pace as requested, making a stop at a three way fork where several culverts gathered into the single outlet that they had made their way into. Niall threw up a hand in a silent signal to halt, then waved a hand to the impromptu commander, Camilla. Feeling a bit more confident in what was going on now that the plan seemed to be going smoothly, the PFC drew from the reserves of his memory as they had been moving and started coming up with a little more information, now that his nerves had calmed down.
"Awrigh', from this point Ah'm not sure where ta go, but if'n ah remember the layout o' the base correctly, the right one should go closest ta where Brownie tol' me ta meet 'er if ah go inside again. To tha left should put us out closer ta tha armory since there's a bit of a bog that's roughly where tha' pipe leads, an' straight ahead there's a dry concrete culvert if my mind serves me properly; Cormac might be able ta back me up on this if'n he's feelin better. Aside from myself headin' left ta meet up with Brownie an' 'er gang, ah aint sure what the bes' course o' action is."
[Chapter 1] Once a Marine.
Re: [Chapter 1] Once a Marine.
Among the sounds of running, putrid water, filled with all manner of contaminants, there came the sound of movement in the central passageway, the one that led from the stone culvert. There was no burdened sloshing, or cursing of another forcing their way through the muck. Instead it was the noise of something breaking the surface of the water in the distant gloom, a humanoid shape rose and filled out some of the dark. With it came a sound that resonated through the walls of the sewers.
Bummm, ba-da-da-da-da-da dah, da-dah!
A calm, synthetic voice followed the cheery noise, "Proximity Protocols Triggered. Activating Board Firmware. Activating Motor Functions. Activating System Security Check."
Slosh. The figure took a step, stiff and deliberate.
"Artificial Consciousness Detected. Surrendering Control."
Slosh. It took another step, coming into what little light there was, revealing a grimy looking war-droid. Unarmed save for a CQC modification to the left arm that appeared to have a retractable blade. The robot's chest was strapped with a plate-carrier that still had shotgun drums and rifle magazines in it, but the fabric appeared to be in a far-along state of decay. The vest had a sheath for a knife that was missing.
It stared at the Marines, the flat plate of its face emotionless.
Bzzzzuht... The calm voice was gone, instead replaced with a low husky growl of a Surandanian male.
"Well, well, well.... You marines musta' pi-pi- piss- sed off tha' wrong people t'get sent on wa-wo- woa- watch down 'ere... Heh heh heh..." the droid waved its hand in difficult motions that got more easy as it moved. "I won' ask what ya did, but I'll save ya' tha' trouble, it's p-p-p-p-perfectly safe d-d-d-d-down 'ere. You let'm know I sent ya' and they won't give ya no trouble."
Bummm, ba-da-da-da-da-da dah, da-dah!
A calm, synthetic voice followed the cheery noise, "Proximity Protocols Triggered. Activating Board Firmware. Activating Motor Functions. Activating System Security Check."
Slosh. The figure took a step, stiff and deliberate.
"Artificial Consciousness Detected. Surrendering Control."
Slosh. It took another step, coming into what little light there was, revealing a grimy looking war-droid. Unarmed save for a CQC modification to the left arm that appeared to have a retractable blade. The robot's chest was strapped with a plate-carrier that still had shotgun drums and rifle magazines in it, but the fabric appeared to be in a far-along state of decay. The vest had a sheath for a knife that was missing.
It stared at the Marines, the flat plate of its face emotionless.
Bzzzzuht... The calm voice was gone, instead replaced with a low husky growl of a Surandanian male.
"Well, well, well.... You marines musta' pi-pi- piss- sed off tha' wrong people t'get sent on wa-wo- woa- watch down 'ere... Heh heh heh..." the droid waved its hand in difficult motions that got more easy as it moved. "I won' ask what ya did, but I'll save ya' tha' trouble, it's p-p-p-p-perfectly safe d-d-d-d-down 'ere. You let'm know I sent ya' and they won't give ya no trouble."
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Mr. Blackbird Lore
- Posts: 722
- Joined: Fri Dec 31, 2010 1:48 pm
Re: [Chapter 1] Once a Marine.
Camilla surged forward when the droid revealed itself, weapon leveled, then lowered it when it addressed them... amicably. The voice struck a chord in the old veteran's mind, but she couldn't place it, and she'd seen more than her fair share of droids. "What-" Camilla paused, catching her error and began again, "Who are you, soldier?"
And why would anyone care about what a thrown-away droid had to say? She kept it to herself, but she also secretly hoped what the metallic man said was true. If there was an easy way through all this, another option, she'd take it in a heartbeat.
And why would anyone care about what a thrown-away droid had to say? She kept it to herself, but she also secretly hoped what the metallic man said was true. If there was an easy way through all this, another option, she'd take it in a heartbeat.
Re: [Chapter 1] Once a Marine.
The droid made a few organic movements of stretching and straining its joints, detritus falling off of what must have been a very still body for a long time. The answer to Camilla's question wasn't immediate, but the robot seemed to be humming internally, as if it was trying to process something. When the pause in the air was too fat to stay suspended, the head of the robot snapped up, and a jaunty little tune began to play.
"In this age of strugglin' and bare-survival', where children die a'hunger, heroes die by tha' hundreds and tha' borders of this interstalla' war shift each minute, a solution is needed. That solution is me. I'm a Michizaki Combat Solutions Arditi-class Droid. For tha' future a'humanity, for tha' end a'tha' Drathonian threat, choose tha' right solution, a Michizaki Combat Solution! This MCS-Arditi-8 unit is capable of all functions and mission-completion of a line soldia', and able of fufillin' roles without tha' messy concerns and logistics of deploying live troops t'tha battlefield. Humanity has suffa'd enough casualties in 'dis terrible war, let the Arditi fight your battles today!"
The music stopped.
It held up its hands in a shrug, "...Is what I'm programmed t'say, angel. I don' think I got a designation. Accordin' t'my maintenance log, I've been memory wiped eighty-three times, despite bein' an Arditi wit' an artificial consciousness slotted in. So you cn' call me whateva' you want."
"In this age of strugglin' and bare-survival', where children die a'hunger, heroes die by tha' hundreds and tha' borders of this interstalla' war shift each minute, a solution is needed. That solution is me. I'm a Michizaki Combat Solutions Arditi-class Droid. For tha' future a'humanity, for tha' end a'tha' Drathonian threat, choose tha' right solution, a Michizaki Combat Solution! This MCS-Arditi-8 unit is capable of all functions and mission-completion of a line soldia', and able of fufillin' roles without tha' messy concerns and logistics of deploying live troops t'tha battlefield. Humanity has suffa'd enough casualties in 'dis terrible war, let the Arditi fight your battles today!"
The music stopped.
It held up its hands in a shrug, "...Is what I'm programmed t'say, angel. I don' think I got a designation. Accordin' t'my maintenance log, I've been memory wiped eighty-three times, despite bein' an Arditi wit' an artificial consciousness slotted in. So you cn' call me whateva' you want."
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Mr. Blackbird Lore
- Posts: 722
- Joined: Fri Dec 31, 2010 1:48 pm
Re: [Chapter 1] Once a Marine.
Camilla frowned, concerned and irritated. This wasn't just a droid, this was a relic. Still less ancient than myself, most likely, she mused.
Then it was back to business. "Alright. For now, callsign Arty. Arty, the base above has been overrun and seized by rebels. We are on our way to rendezvous with a small cell of soldiers still inside to plan the recapture. The current outline is as stands: rendezvous, devise plan to create opening for external forces, then seize the armory- those last two will theoretically occur simultaneously.
"Are you armed?"
Then it was back to business. "Alright. For now, callsign Arty. Arty, the base above has been overrun and seized by rebels. We are on our way to rendezvous with a small cell of soldiers still inside to plan the recapture. The current outline is as stands: rendezvous, devise plan to create opening for external forces, then seize the armory- those last two will theoretically occur simultaneously.
"Are you armed?"
Re: [Chapter 1] Once a Marine.
"Taken over? Rebels? I ain't been out dat long, have I?"
The rusty droid looked at itself, inspecting its arms and legs.
"I got ain't nuthin worth talkin' about," Arty started picking through its vest, holding up the shotgun drums and the magazines, "Some water-logged shotgun shells for an' Orc, and some SUGR 5.56 iffn' you're really hurtin'..."
It opened some of the dilapidated pouches on the plate-carrier, "A medkit, some of the injectables still look good. Some earplugs, a clacker for explosives, a weapon cleanin' kit, a little chit with door codes on it, a soggy picture a some girl, a multi-tool, some expired batteries, and a couple a'solar panel replacements."
The double jointed arms on the robot's frame spun around, and the apeture's torso turned in place independent of its head and legs to reveal grubby looking field pack. With its body thoroughly twisted, it began to fish through the field pack. "An orbital beacon kit... some more expired batteries. Huh. A digital drive. Oh! And one grenade."
A grenade was plucked from the pack, as grimey and mucky as the rest of his gear. It looked like an incendiary explosive.
"Other than that, I got tha' bog-standard stuff."
The robot's visor lit up, and set out a ghostly projection of itself, listing off its different features, "Holo-projector kit, internal comms kit, vehicle interface kit, infantry sensa' suite, artificial consciousness node, and one MCS Arditi CQC arm, just t'name a few."
It raised the CQC arm, which was also marred from years of apparent immersion in the polluted waters in the sewer. Most of the paint was corroded and there was dirt still built in the crevices, but Arty still managed to fire the spring-loaded blade. It was the most peculiar part of his entire inventory, as it was the only thing that appeared untouched by time or the conditions in the sewer. The metal had a bright polish, and reflected almost a blue hue in the dim.
If Cormac was assensing the area for energies, he'd also be able to tell that it was emanating magic.
The rusty droid looked at itself, inspecting its arms and legs.
"I got ain't nuthin worth talkin' about," Arty started picking through its vest, holding up the shotgun drums and the magazines, "Some water-logged shotgun shells for an' Orc, and some SUGR 5.56 iffn' you're really hurtin'..."
It opened some of the dilapidated pouches on the plate-carrier, "A medkit, some of the injectables still look good. Some earplugs, a clacker for explosives, a weapon cleanin' kit, a little chit with door codes on it, a soggy picture a some girl, a multi-tool, some expired batteries, and a couple a'solar panel replacements."
The double jointed arms on the robot's frame spun around, and the apeture's torso turned in place independent of its head and legs to reveal grubby looking field pack. With its body thoroughly twisted, it began to fish through the field pack. "An orbital beacon kit... some more expired batteries. Huh. A digital drive. Oh! And one grenade."
A grenade was plucked from the pack, as grimey and mucky as the rest of his gear. It looked like an incendiary explosive.
"Other than that, I got tha' bog-standard stuff."
The robot's visor lit up, and set out a ghostly projection of itself, listing off its different features, "Holo-projector kit, internal comms kit, vehicle interface kit, infantry sensa' suite, artificial consciousness node, and one MCS Arditi CQC arm, just t'name a few."
It raised the CQC arm, which was also marred from years of apparent immersion in the polluted waters in the sewer. Most of the paint was corroded and there was dirt still built in the crevices, but Arty still managed to fire the spring-loaded blade. It was the most peculiar part of his entire inventory, as it was the only thing that appeared untouched by time or the conditions in the sewer. The metal had a bright polish, and reflected almost a blue hue in the dim.
If Cormac was assensing the area for energies, he'd also be able to tell that it was emanating magic.
Re: [Chapter 1] Once a Marine.
Niall was taken aback as Something arose from the sewage, something humanoid and mechanical, with armor instead of skin- Unlike Bob from his squad, though, this one wasn't designed to mimic a human; it was clearly designed first and foremost for war. Gawking at it as it began to speak, the Irishman didn't have time to bring his weapon to bear before he was completely lost in the exchange. Remaining silent for a while, Niall thought something that this, Arty according to Camilla, said sounded familiar. Michizaki Combat solutions? Wasn't that one of the companies that built Mimicom and Compudall spec Aelfs? Arditi? wasn't that one of their earliest models.... "But they were phased out o' use over sixty years ago!" he suddenly said aloud, looking confused.
"Arditis ain't been used in more'n 'alf a cent'ry!" and when he went over what ammunition he had, it became even more clear- Neither of the weapons Arty had ammunition for were used by any military or police force, and were both almost as rare as the chemical pumped laser pistol he carried as his personal sidearm. "Yer an antique leftover from tha Drathonian war!"
"Arditis ain't been used in more'n 'alf a cent'ry!" and when he went over what ammunition he had, it became even more clear- Neither of the weapons Arty had ammunition for were used by any military or police force, and were both almost as rare as the chemical pumped laser pistol he carried as his personal sidearm. "Yer an antique leftover from tha Drathonian war!"
Re: [Chapter 1] Once a Marine.
"My only question, Schwarzenegger," Cormac started, seeming to brush past being momentarily awe struck at the site of a retro war droid. "Why do you have ear plugs with you?"
The elder of the two Irishmen also seemed to have regained his senses after, well, whatever it was that had come over him. He hadn't felt that weird since one time in college when...
"Anyway, assume this means you're on our side?" Cormac didnt have much to add to a discussion about robots beyond classical era movie references, and since this was likely the wrong group and setting he held his tongue.
The elder of the two Irishmen also seemed to have regained his senses after, well, whatever it was that had come over him. He hadn't felt that weird since one time in college when...
"Anyway, assume this means you're on our side?" Cormac didnt have much to add to a discussion about robots beyond classical era movie references, and since this was likely the wrong group and setting he held his tongue.
Re: [Chapter 1] Once a Marine.
As Cormac and Niall spoke, a silence seemed to take over the Arditi, not immediately responding. The pristine blade withdrew into the arm, and the antique regarded the both of them by spinning its torso back the right way, and facing them.
"Y'know, I don't see any otha' Aelfs 'ere wit' metal parts and articulatin' joints carryin' guns, so it seems like I'm state-of-the-art for your situation, kid. A musket ain't all 'dat ancient if ya dealin' in fists, hopes, an'dreams," it answered Niall finally, before looking to Cormac, "An' you bring up a good point, Starboy. I get a good look at yas, you two don' look like Marines, just a couple of muscly townies and a couple otha' dudes totin' guns. Y'come in 'ere talkin' about rebels, and should I just roll wit' it? My programmin' says no."
A metal finger rose, pointing at the Staff Sergeant, "But. I look at her face, and somethin' in me says yes. I dunno 'bout you chuckleheads, but she's alright."
"Y'know, I don't see any otha' Aelfs 'ere wit' metal parts and articulatin' joints carryin' guns, so it seems like I'm state-of-the-art for your situation, kid. A musket ain't all 'dat ancient if ya dealin' in fists, hopes, an'dreams," it answered Niall finally, before looking to Cormac, "An' you bring up a good point, Starboy. I get a good look at yas, you two don' look like Marines, just a couple of muscly townies and a couple otha' dudes totin' guns. Y'come in 'ere talkin' about rebels, and should I just roll wit' it? My programmin' says no."
A metal finger rose, pointing at the Staff Sergeant, "But. I look at her face, and somethin' in me says yes. I dunno 'bout you chuckleheads, but she's alright."
Last edited by Kokuten on Wed Jul 29, 2020 3:48 am, edited 1 time in total.
-
Gwathdraug
- Posts: 281
- Joined: Fri Dec 24, 2010 9:48 am
Re: [Chapter 1] Once a Marine.
Sitting in a sewer sucked.
IRREGULAR BEHAVIORAL PATTERN DETECTED: REPORT TO COMMAND IMMEDIATELY
Sitting in a sewer getting your head split in half by the keening of the world's dumbest electronic banshee sucked. Imp de Vos tightened the knot of the non-regulation bandana - IRREGULAR - she had pulled from her pocket. The pressure of the piece of cloth against her forehead did at least something to cancel out the pressure constantly building up and up inside her head. The fact that it was soaked with sewage - BEHAVIOR - and was now forcing a fight between actual shit and the natural grease of her pale hair did not seem to make the fucking banshee any happier. Neither did the antique chemical pistol - PATTERN - sitting cradled atop her uniform-covered legs. It really didn't like that some human separatist shit had gotten at least one rib broken - DETECTED - and her knee shattered to be relieved of the pistol she had tried to kill Imp with.
Would have been just fucking fantastic if I could have killed the bitch back too.
REPORT TO COMMAND IMMEDIATELY!
01110011 01101000 01110101 01110100 00100000 01110101 01110000 00100001
Command got made into a bunch of fucking rot-stains - which you know if you'd bother to ever think anything coherent instead of just chasing your own programming to make me go mad!
SITUATION UNCLEAR: LOCATE NEW COMMAND ELEMENT IMMEDIATELY
Bringing her hands to her head in frustration Imp found herself wanting to scream and needing to do anything with her voice to help deal with EMOTIONS of all things just made her want to scream - but louder and also in a way that would be hopefully heard as entirely inhuman.
TERRAN AUDIO ARTIFACTS DETECTED: PURSUE
"What?" The sudden change in what had been her jailor's constant litany for the past hour surprised a response out of the small woman. The sewer wasn't exactly quiet - things were flowing everywhere from busted and torn pipes that had suffered under the shock of munitions impacted on the surface above - but the damn banshee had been made to be a spy program and some idiot had decided it should be able to hear better than she was allowed to.
And that it got to decided whether or not it shared any of its extra information.
PURSUE
01000110 01001001 01001110 01000101
Standing up as quick as she could - muscles in her legs protesting from the amount of time she had spent squatting in one of the few dry spots she had stabled into - Imp kept the pistol held comfortably in both hands with the barrel pointing towards the ground. The safety was still on and the round that HAD been chambered was now sitting soaking wet in one of her pockets because it was all something she just wasn't ALLOWED. Holding back a snarl the uniformed woman shoved her thoughts of how she wanted to deal with things aside as she started moving forward.
The sewage around her was still choked with dust and mortar and it both squished and ripped at her feet with the grit of it as it seeped into her boots. The discomfort was far easier to shove aside than the anger she had been feeling earlier.
"I dunno 'bout you chuckleheads, but she's alright."
The first voice Imp could hear as she approached was roughly accented, utterly human in the way it presented itself, and undercut with an electronic buzz that made its earlier two qualities seem like a bad joke. It got under her skin in a way that made her want to shout at someone until they felt bloody.
Instead, she pressed her lips into a thin line and stomped her way around the last corner that was cutting her off from view of her PURSUIT. Grimy, smelling the worse for wear, and with generous daubings of blood painted across her buttoned uniformed coat Imp stared at everyone in front of her with clearly cybernetic eyes - black pupils on black sclera separate by thin rings of steel.
Arditi-8; possible Synthetic unit: Non-command, Acceptable Target
Flynn, Cormac; Specialist: Non-command, Non-target
Callaghan, Niall; PFC: Non-command, Non-target
The barrage of assessments made Imp grit her teeth. She honestly hadn't been expecting this many people to be clogged together in the muck of all things. The two soldiers in civvies she had no real recognition of, but they had probably seen each other on base before. The Arditi that was twice again as dirty as she was was at least something she could be violent against if it came to that. The four faceless black beetles standing behind everyone else were about to give her a migraine though.
IDENTITIES REDACTED; COMMAND ELEMENT FOUND - IDENTITIES REDACTED; COMMAND ELEMENT FOUND - IDENTITIES-
Her jailer was turning on the sirens and breaking out the party poppers at the same time as it caught itself in a screaming loop. To make matters worse Imp could feel the faint tingle running along her jaw that announced that it had attached itself temporarily to her language center like a limpet and was holding anything she would attempt to say for its pending approval. The only good news was as long as she kept her hands on the stolen fucking pistol it wouldn't try and make her salute.
"Specialist Imp de Vos." Imp ground out a smile as her jaw ached. "I broke someone's knee, stole her weapon, and am quite unfit for inspection at the moment. Who's in charge here?"
IRREGULAR BEHAVIORAL PATTERN DETECTED: REPORT TO COMMAND IMMEDIATELY
Sitting in a sewer getting your head split in half by the keening of the world's dumbest electronic banshee sucked. Imp de Vos tightened the knot of the non-regulation bandana - IRREGULAR - she had pulled from her pocket. The pressure of the piece of cloth against her forehead did at least something to cancel out the pressure constantly building up and up inside her head. The fact that it was soaked with sewage - BEHAVIOR - and was now forcing a fight between actual shit and the natural grease of her pale hair did not seem to make the fucking banshee any happier. Neither did the antique chemical pistol - PATTERN - sitting cradled atop her uniform-covered legs. It really didn't like that some human separatist shit had gotten at least one rib broken - DETECTED - and her knee shattered to be relieved of the pistol she had tried to kill Imp with.
Would have been just fucking fantastic if I could have killed the bitch back too.
REPORT TO COMMAND IMMEDIATELY!
01110011 01101000 01110101 01110100 00100000 01110101 01110000 00100001
Command got made into a bunch of fucking rot-stains - which you know if you'd bother to ever think anything coherent instead of just chasing your own programming to make me go mad!
SITUATION UNCLEAR: LOCATE NEW COMMAND ELEMENT IMMEDIATELY
Bringing her hands to her head in frustration Imp found herself wanting to scream and needing to do anything with her voice to help deal with EMOTIONS of all things just made her want to scream - but louder and also in a way that would be hopefully heard as entirely inhuman.
TERRAN AUDIO ARTIFACTS DETECTED: PURSUE
"What?" The sudden change in what had been her jailor's constant litany for the past hour surprised a response out of the small woman. The sewer wasn't exactly quiet - things were flowing everywhere from busted and torn pipes that had suffered under the shock of munitions impacted on the surface above - but the damn banshee had been made to be a spy program and some idiot had decided it should be able to hear better than she was allowed to.
And that it got to decided whether or not it shared any of its extra information.
PURSUE
01000110 01001001 01001110 01000101
Standing up as quick as she could - muscles in her legs protesting from the amount of time she had spent squatting in one of the few dry spots she had stabled into - Imp kept the pistol held comfortably in both hands with the barrel pointing towards the ground. The safety was still on and the round that HAD been chambered was now sitting soaking wet in one of her pockets because it was all something she just wasn't ALLOWED. Holding back a snarl the uniformed woman shoved her thoughts of how she wanted to deal with things aside as she started moving forward.
The sewage around her was still choked with dust and mortar and it both squished and ripped at her feet with the grit of it as it seeped into her boots. The discomfort was far easier to shove aside than the anger she had been feeling earlier.
"I dunno 'bout you chuckleheads, but she's alright."
The first voice Imp could hear as she approached was roughly accented, utterly human in the way it presented itself, and undercut with an electronic buzz that made its earlier two qualities seem like a bad joke. It got under her skin in a way that made her want to shout at someone until they felt bloody.
Instead, she pressed her lips into a thin line and stomped her way around the last corner that was cutting her off from view of her PURSUIT. Grimy, smelling the worse for wear, and with generous daubings of blood painted across her buttoned uniformed coat Imp stared at everyone in front of her with clearly cybernetic eyes - black pupils on black sclera separate by thin rings of steel.
Arditi-8; possible Synthetic unit: Non-command, Acceptable Target
Flynn, Cormac; Specialist: Non-command, Non-target
Callaghan, Niall; PFC: Non-command, Non-target
The barrage of assessments made Imp grit her teeth. She honestly hadn't been expecting this many people to be clogged together in the muck of all things. The two soldiers in civvies she had no real recognition of, but they had probably seen each other on base before. The Arditi that was twice again as dirty as she was was at least something she could be violent against if it came to that. The four faceless black beetles standing behind everyone else were about to give her a migraine though.
IDENTITIES REDACTED; COMMAND ELEMENT FOUND - IDENTITIES REDACTED; COMMAND ELEMENT FOUND - IDENTITIES-
Her jailer was turning on the sirens and breaking out the party poppers at the same time as it caught itself in a screaming loop. To make matters worse Imp could feel the faint tingle running along her jaw that announced that it had attached itself temporarily to her language center like a limpet and was holding anything she would attempt to say for its pending approval. The only good news was as long as she kept her hands on the stolen fucking pistol it wouldn't try and make her salute.
"Specialist Imp de Vos." Imp ground out a smile as her jaw ached. "I broke someone's knee, stole her weapon, and am quite unfit for inspection at the moment. Who's in charge here?"